Celebration
by kasura
Summary: A celebration that's long overdue...


Celebration

By kasura

Beautiful harp music soared high in the warm, cozy but tasteful decorated parlor, where the delightful notes were wretchedly out of place in the cacophony of noises unabashedly originated from the commotions of the lounging residents, each with a crystal goblet daintily held in their hands, the other hands reaching out to the golden plates with towering food wantonly arranged on a large gilded table, painting a disturbing picture of dissipation and indolence. Bang! The harp minstrel struck an angry note loudly, halting the heated conversations at mid point and turning all eyes toward the fuming minstrel.

"Oh give it a rest, I thought you ran out of scores and patience after playing for the sea gulls in perpetuity, wallowing in misery at the wasted shores with seaweeds as your dour companions." An elf with beautiful corn silk hair was quick to sneer.

Balefully the minstrel stared at the speaker, "I demand you refraining yourself from insulting my enlightening journey to the axiom of aesthetics and to attain sophistry, techniques in composition, styles and celestial harmonics." Furthermore, he sniffed delicately. "The uncouth does not appreciate the true artiste talent. Oh what I have to suffer for the sake of my art."

Notwithstanding the sharp rebuke from the minstrel, the blonde elf tossed his shimmering locks back in defiance, shouted right back caustically, "Nor does he possess the prowess to keep the puny orcs off his Fort. Had to beg dear elder brother for assistance in organizing a war party so his delicate fingers remained unspoiled!"

"And preying on unwilling girl and being throttled near death by a scruffy mortal is prowess? I beg to differ; I believe the sheer fact that I had survived ten Ages speaks volume to my prowess. Thank Eru I am not renowned in history as a menacing chair breaker."

"Ahem" A gentle, beautiful elf with silvery blonde locks coughed gracefully, effectively subsiding the raging storm built up between the two confronting elves, which were spitting vitriol at each other. "The purpose of our gathering tonight is to celebrate a union so dearly desired by us and have been denied to the couple for ages, and through trials and tribulations to finally earn the blessings rightfully deserved. We shall not ruin this long awaited celebration due to insignificant, trivial insults thrown carelessly in the heat of passion. Pray to continue the merriment and let the bygones be bygones." He gave the two quarreling elves a gentle but firm, pointed look; both slinked down.

The conversations resumed. More beautiful notes were produced from the golden harp, as the harp player's peevish mood was appeased and restored.

"So I was saying, I quickly figured out the exchange rates of the monetary systems between the Green elves, dwarves, Sindars and Nandors to effectively exploit the differentials to profit from trading essential wares in the aforementioned realms, strategically employed local laborers to manage the trade routes to reduce overhead and penetrate target markets. Not to brag but my enterprise quadrupled at the end of the first year. Quite a feat when you consider the enormous enmity and rampant bigotry inflicted on the exiles." The rosy complexion elf finished his sentence, eyeing his engrossed listeners and smirked. The blonde elf that lounged next to him -a less refine version of the silvery blonde who had spoken out earlier - nodded profusely in agreement.

"Impressive, I was holed up in the underground caverns so our war funds were insufficient to replenish the materials to bolster defense so a measly worm breached the wall like a dart going through paper. Obviously we are at fault in sub par quality control of fortification, producing shoddy works. Prejudice prevented me from outsourcing to experts in the other camps." He looked dejected for a minute, sidled to a dark haired elf with earnest, regal face sitting next to him to grab a scone off the elf's plate, which was piled high with scones. Apparently owner of the plate didn't mind this robbery of food, peacefully nibbling on his scone and commented in good spirit.

"Hmmph. My hidden kingdom was brilliantly engineered to be self-reliant so funds were never a major decisive factor, in the end it was the Balrogs that did it."

"I have to say in the matters of finance, my spendthrift brother squandered his money like water, he never inclined to establish trade with the dwarves, to efficiently leveraging the talents and resources of his followers but let them go waste. How can he tolerate that?" The rosy-faced elf shook his head in bafflement, again commanding the attentions of his rapt listeners.

A dark haired elf with fiery eyes puffed up his chest, protesting furiously, "How dare you slight me, I was occupied by the taxing tasks of roadmapping the manifest destiny of extending our sphere of influence to the indigenous realms, and teaching my wayward son the family craft. And you, stop praising yourself, you pretentious imbecile, you did a lousy job of managing kingship that your perfidious lords were busy undermining your authority instead of fortifying the defenses." He fumed and puffed more, glaring.

"Lofty words from someone who puttered around and resorted to intrigues and conspiring against his cousin to get a piece of the action, O Crafty One. Never mind the said son eventually forsook his father due to embarrassment of his futile deceptions." The dark haired elf raised his elegant eyebrow and calmly deflecting the taunt by mocking back, thereby prompting the so-called Crafty One's attempt in bodily retaliation – 'attempt' since he was reined back by the rosy checked elf, and shoved back to his seat. The dark haired elf twittered.

Out of the blue, an elf with golden locks interjected, "My brother here indeed is one luckless elf. Poor fellow is so confounded he doesn't even know whether he has a daughter and a son or only a daughter." The elf was looking at his brother with fond, brotherly indulgence, ere he casually commented again.

"Speaking of which, I thought you have a younger brother born after your sister, the white lady. Where's that fellow now? Was he adopted or fabricated by your father to regain the upper hand on his half brother, or mayhap he felt inadequate in bedroom given our race is well repute for fecundity? (wink, wink)." A round of sniggers predictably followed suit, with the Crafty One being the loudest one. The dark haired elf was not bashful in displaying his ire.

"Our convoluted family tree remains a mystery to me therein, one has not yet unlocked the source of this confounded phenomenon. I'm quite vexed."

He found rapport in a fellow elf, "Someone ought to resolve this mystery, we have too many bogus relatives! I shudder to see a wife or a daughter sprouted on me one day and demanding their right to the family inheritance." _Wasn't he married before?_ The blonde elf muttered to the nearby neighbor. _His wife probably ditched him before the appalling Oath chiefly due to his extreme miser frugality, ere she remained anonymous._ Whispered back by the neighbor with a bit of prim smugness, sniggering - after all, his wife stayed faithfully by his side, the good lady's just not very effective in bridging factious partisans (who really could in that high strung, volatile environment) but was the paragon of sterling, wifely virtues – bravely ignoring the death stares darting his way from the rosy checked elf.

Chin, Chin, Chin.

The sharp sound of fork tapping on to the side of the crystal goblet commanded everyone's attention, the conversations in the parlor ceased. The minstrel has regained the floor. With great satisfaction he opened his speech, "Welcome, brothers and cousins, to the joyous celebration hosted at this humble abode to bless the union of the two so dear to us. We have been utterly amazed and defeated by their stubbornness to remain infatuated with each other, braving endless hardships and calamities. Alas, their fortitudes in their overwrought attachments to their love thus garnered our steadfast support, and tell them to get on with it."

"Hear, hear." Nodding agreement from the audience. Merrily another round of copious alcohol was partaken, toasting to the speech. The minstrel played a string of jovial notes to reflect the convivial ambience permeating in the parlor, his eyes closed in deep trance. Then he paused and spoke again. "Now surely you all want to hear the tedious details of how these two star crossed lovers begin their journey of love?" His eyes twinkling under the bright chandelier, and smiled mischievously, and his fingers itching to play another merry tune.

"Spill." Direct command was issued, the minstrel was happy to oblige.

"How shall we begin this epic tale of everlasting love? Well to start, a boy sees a boy, falls in love with the boy despite the enmity between their families, how tragic. Hearken by love, the boy pursues boy to the end….Eeep!!!" Interrupted, the minstrel was viciously pelted by a rain of biscuits from his listeners, who were booing him shamelessly and tactlessly. "Oh the sorrows, you have no appreciation for true narrative gift!" bemoaning the torturous fate of being the lone genius among mediocre crowd while dodging the starchy projectiles, so damaging to his ego, the minstrel lamented, "I finally understand what father felt."

No time to salvage his pride, the minstrel was ordered to announce the arrival of two impressively bedecked elves, who were dressed to the nigh. Both elves indeed possessed noble mien and stately stature. The breathless beauty of the tall, red haired elf has taken everyone aback, even when they were supposed to be used to close proximity to such magnificence. His dark haired companion smiled affectionately. Trailing behind them were two identical red curly haired elves sparkling with wicked humors carrying the couple's jeweled encrusted trains, giggling as they entered the parlor.

"So you finally done the deed" the silvery blonde elf mused, his eyes locked on to the shiny, identical and perfect silver rings on the pair's third fingers. The dark haired elf nodded, casting a warm glance at his red haired companion, who was blushing and evading the piercing, inquisitive looks from some elves in the parlor.

"I propose a toast to the couple." The minstrel exclaimed, being exceedingly bubbly from overexcitement. No one could resist the request to imbibe more wine; verily they were thrilled to raise their goblets to toast the couple, wishing them abundant felicity in their union.

The chorus cheered.

"Matimo and Findekano!"

"Findekano and Matimo!"

Every elf in the room shook the couple's hands and showered them with gifts – some of them are quite imaginative, some are absolutely useless. Furthermore, they whisked out more bottles of wine from under the table to have many more rounds of merry drinking.

Ambarussa cheerfully proclaimed, "Findekano, welcome to the family! Oh wait, you're already family." which earned them a well- meaning smack, thus concluded a peaceful, jovial celebration in the waves of well wishes. The lovers went up upstairs to a private suite, where it was prepared romantically prior for their use.

"My love, you look dazzling tonight."

"Is it okay to leave them to their devices? Last time they were together in a feast, it degenerated to our cousins brawling each other ferociously, swords unsheathed, cursing and threatening body parts in relatively shortness of time." Maitimo tightened his lips, sending his partner a worried look. "I shudder to find mangled bodies lying in heaps in the parlor tomorrow morning."

"I hope the ages spent in gentle confinement in Mandos and the war reparation effort had dull their impulsive temperaments and taught them how to play nice to each other. Leave them be, beloved."

Findekano's wise words have proven true to Maitimo. Downstairs, Finderato started bawling out sappy love songs. Whoever played the harp to spur the King of Nargothrond on should be shoved to the pit of Angband's sewage duct. Turukano discovered his affinity for tambourines, contributed his share of entertainment by enthusiastic shaking of these instruments to cheer his cousin on, drowning Tyelkormo's vicious complaints. Perhaps it was the endless rounds of the best wines from Nolofinwe's private stash, their potency indisputable, or the cozy ambience of the parlor, Atarinke has mellowed out to the point of dancing to the melody, shaking his lovely tush to the notes with his hand firmly holding the wine goblet, taking a sip or two in between movements, and bellowed out a word or two attune to Finderato's song, "Funky Cave."

Feigning boredom, cause the Lord of Himlad was above the vulgar amusements so thoroughly enjoyed by his inebriated relatives now, Tyelkormo fussed over his golden locks, brushing them over and over, immersed in the cathartic pleasure of grooming his prized tresses, his surly frown and sulky expression slowly disappearing. Artaresto(Orodreth) shook his head at the wanton behaviors and sighed miserably. He can always eat away the injustice of being his older brother's replacement, the wretchedness of losing his lands twice, drowning his sorrows in the consumption of yummy scones, and being the singular person in this room still in possession of the clarity of thoughts, or he assumed, after surveying the parlor observing his loud mouthed relatives.

At the corner, Pityo and Telvo were industrious in draping themselves with party beads of multitude of colors. Each had at least 15 strands of these beads hanging around their necks. Accomplishing this task, they proceeded to crack open more bottles of wine and spirits, head on practicing their long lost art of mixing chemicals, barking a few raunchy words and fist pumping each other between mixing spirits and liquors, energetic in chucking out the prettiest, most colorful shade of mixed drinks. Finderato soldiered on with his singing.

His duty done, this farce of a party is rapidly declining. Carnistir yawned and readied to swiftly leave this parlor to return to his office to focus on clearing the accounts piling up on his desk. There is no rest for the diligent. Someone reached over to tap his shoulder lightly. Who? He turned to find the culprit and heard Angarato innocently asked, "Hey there, do you fancy a relaxing fishing expedition tomorrow morning?"

Alarmed, Carnistir glared venomously at Angarato, whom he had routinely abused over the ages they have been acquainted. What brought on this friendly overture? His mind whirled at the possibilities as he shifted slightly back, avidly avoiding potential contact. "Why? I am busy working on the financial projections of my luxury gardening supply line for the next 5 yeni. That dratted Legolas Thranduilion raised the stake higher recently by creating a secondary brand targeting at experienced woodsy gardeners. I have no spare time to dabble in frivolous activity." _What is this preposterous fool doing?_

Undeterred, Angarato edged closer, purring, "Observing the domestic felicity so enjoyed by our esteemed cousins has made me yearn for the same happiness. I have longed for the chance to explore the potentials, you wily Dark Elf." He winked. Carnistir's face turned redder, much darker than its usual rosy hue, was he blushing?

"Get away from me, you spawn of Arafinwe. How dare you spouted such nonsense to me? I'm fully convinced you're born dim witted, ere your lack of sense and discretions. Have I cautioned you numerous times? I am not to be trifled with."

Bewildered and unsettled by this aberrant behavior, Carnistir has temporarily lost his list of verbal abuses he's compiled to purposely insult Angarato whenever the occasion demands his natural talent in irritating and getting under the skin of the one he detested. Surely his face couldn't be redder and heated.

"Don't be bashful, you will need the hammer of Morgoth to peel me off from you this time. Precious moments were lost between us while entangled in the web of family intrigues. But we still can salvage this."

"I vehemently deplore your overwrought imagination, there was _NEVER _a moment between us, ever!!!!"

"My ardor of love will not wane, readily I came prepared to profess my feelings to you. I will gladly endure the trials of love to win the golden heart of the one I desired." Paused, Angarato took out a piece of parchment littering with fine Feanorian scripts from his side pocket, "Indeed I shall read this dainty piece of verses out to you in the hopes of securing your affection. Here me out:

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:  
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;  
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;  
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

….."

Oh the horrors, with all his Feanorian intelligence Carnistir was rendered stunned that his brilliant mind couldn't devise a strategy to escape unscathed from this predicament, so instead he hollered, "Makalaure, cease dallying with the harp and come save me from this vapid fool and his accursed, inane poetry!"


End file.
